


Believing

by HeavynDragon



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: F/F, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavynDragon/pseuds/HeavynDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fox Shepphard is an eighteen year old who moves into 'Murder House' after the tragic death of her mother. She proclaims she doesn't believe in ghosts, but will the house make a believer out of her? And all the while she's ignoring the house's horrifying occupants, she's also fighting an extreme attraction to a certain blond dead guy; Tate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Just because I didn't believe in ghosts, didn't mean it wasn't super creepy to move into a place the locals had dubbed 'Murder House'.

But before my mother died, she had boughten the place, and left it to me in the will, along with everything she had owned.

You see, my mother died in a car accident. Apparently the road was too icy, and her tires couldn't get any traction, so she slid right off the road and into a tree at 85 mph.

Before the accident, she had bought this stupid house, proclaiming it would be 'fun to live somewhere haunted!'

Yeah. Real fun, mom.

But I moved in anyway.

I sold most of my mother's things, since I would never use them, and found myself a job working on movie sets.

I spent my days catering to spoiled, pampered stars, fetching them coffee drinks with names so long the dictionary seemed like a two worded book.

But it paid the bills.

As for living in the house itself, well sometimes it was a little eerie.

But that was probably just because I was an eighteen year old, living alone in a large house.

And a little bit because my neighbour was creepy as hell.

But at least I didn't have to clean the huge place. That's what Moira was for...

I had been hesitant about having a housekeeper, but she insisted. And after talking it over, we found an affordable amount I could pay her.

So, what's the worst that could happen?


	2. Tate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fox begins meeting inhabitants of the house, one of which being Tate.

"Another stressful day, Miss Shepphard?" Moira asked as I walked through the front door.

I leaned against the door after closing it and sighed. "After catering to celebrities all day, I always have a new found respect for you." I answered.

The red haired maid gave me a smile. "That's kind of you to say. Shall I make you dinner?"

I nodded. "That would be nice. I think I'll take a bath while you do so."

I trudged up the stairs, heading towards the master bedroom as Moira slipped into the large kitchen.

"You know, this house is too quiet. You should blast some music."

I almost screamed as the young man in my bedroom spoke, giving me a Cheshire grin from his perch on my bed.

"And who the hell are you?" I asked him, ignoring his previous comment.

He stood up and shrugged, his hands resting in his pockets. "The name's Tate."

"Well, Tate, I'll have you know it's illegal to enter someone's house without permission. And it's creepy to hang around in someone's bedroom like this." I informed him.

"I didn't break in." He defended. "I promise." He put his hands out, palms up, as if I were a wild animal that he was afraid would bite him.

I let out a sigh. "Whatever. Get out."

"Aren't you going to tell me your name? Or ask where I live? Most people do those things."

"My name is Fox. I don't care where you live, I just want to take a bath. Now get out."

He quirked a brow. "Fox? Cool name. I live nearby, just so you know." He gave me a wink and then left my room, walking in confident strides.

He was a creepy motherfucker. But he was also attractive, I'll give him that.

~•~

After a nice, long bath, I slipped into my pyjamas and headed downstairs, following the aroma of whatever Moira had made for dinner.

The older woman had become a motherly figure to me, very quickly, so I was always glad that she was around. Not too mention she was a great cook and housekeeper.

I sat down at the kitchen island, and Moira sat a plate of pasta in front of me.

"Wow. Looks great!" I chirped honestly. "Thank you."

She smiled as I dug in.

"I'm going to go dust the living room before I leave, will you be alright for the rest of the night?" She asked as I twirled my fork around the spaghetti.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'll be okay." I answered and she headed out to dust and then go home.

I finished my dinner in silence, and then rinsed the plate and stuck it in the dishwasher.

I headed into the living room, Moira long gone now, and sat on the couch. Just as I reached over to grab my book off the coffee table, a blonde haired woman walked into the room.

"What have you done?" She looked around in horror as I stared at her in shock. "Such cheap fabrics in my beautiful home." She sniffled, as if she were about to break into tears.

"What? Does everyone in the neighbourhood just let themselves in without invite?" I murmured. I rubbed my eyes and turned to tell her to 'get out' only to find she was gone.

I made a quick sweep of the house, only to find I was alone.

"Okay. Weird." I whispered.

I made sure all the doors were locked and then sat back down on the couch to finish reading 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by William Shakespeare.

At some point I must have fallen asleep. I vaguely remember dreaming of a chestnut haired, middle aged woman taking the book from my hands and marking my page as she set the book back on the coffee table.

"Go to bed." She murmured to me in a mothering tone and I nodded, following her instructions.

~•~

The next day, Wednesday, I had off from work. I had decided early in the morning that Tate was right, the house was too quiet.  
So I set off in search of a pet store.

Nothing better than a loving pet to return home to.

I ended up buying two pets, a white, fluffy kitten, and an albino ferret.

They were both so cute, I couldn't help myself...

I let the two go once home, so they could explore the house. I had already given them names.

Draco, for the ferret, of course. And Caper for the kitten.

They made the house more homey.

"You bought a ferret?" Tate asked, giving me another heart attack as I noticed him sitting on the love seat in my living room.

"Apparently you've forgotten how it's still against the law to enter someone's house without permission." I rolled my eyes at him and plunked myself down on the couch.

He shrugged his shoulders. "You might notice I'm not the only house guest you have." He said sorta vaguely.

"Are you trying to tell me people break in often?" I replied.

He shook his head. "No one breaks in."

I narrowed my eyes and switched the topic. "Why are you here?"

He moved to sit next to me on the couch. "You look lonely, living alone. Are you?" It wasn't really an answer to my question.

"Not really. I'm used to being alone." I shrugged my own shoulders. "Before she died, my mom worked all the time, so it's not like I'm a stranger to empty houses."

He furrowed his eyebrows and leaned in towards me, conveying that he was listening with interest. "Don't you have a father?"

"No." I shook my head. "He got the hell out of dodge when he learned my mom was pregnant." I wasn't sure why I was telling him, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to trust him.

"Well I can promise I'll be around a lot, so you won't be alone." He spoke as if he were doing me some huge favour, and I could tell he was teasing me.

I shoved him off the couch playfully. "Who says I need anyone?" I gave him a smile, deciding he wasn't so bad.

He laughed from on the floor, looking up at me with another Cheshire grin. "You'll want me around. You'll see."

I grabbed the couch pillow and tossed it at him. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

He caught it and threw it back, and it soared over the couch and onto the floor. "Just that you shouldn't be so calm about living here."

I raised a brow. "Why? Because it's 'Murder House'?" I scoffed. "I don't believe in ghosts."

His attitude became serious. The joking manner gone from his face frightfully fast. "You should." He sat up on his knees in front of me. "And you will, if the house has any say in it. But I'll keep you safe."

I tilted my head to the side, listening to his words in confusion. He was almost scary, with how he spoke and acted about the 'ghosts' of the house. It was almost as if he believed the house was alive.

"You're bullshitting me." I decided.

He sighed, not in annoyance or exasperation, but as if he were tired. For a moment in his eyes I could see an agelessness I couldn't comprehend, as if he had lived longer than he should have, and had witnessed things he didn't desire to speak on.

"I won't lie to you. This time around, I'm not going to lie." He took my hand in his cold one.

I almost wanted to ask what 'this time around' meant, but I didn't.

"Alright." I mumbled, not sure what else to tell him because his seriousness was getting creepy. "Alright, Tate."


	3. Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fox meets Violet and learns Rosenheim's secret.

A loud crash from downstairs woke me up. I shot up, my heart pounding in my chest.

My first thought was that perhaps Caper or Draco had knocked something over, but the thought was disproved when I became aware that the two creatures were in bed with me.

I slid out of my bed and reached under it. My fingers curled around the hilt of a broadsword that I had bought a few years ago.

I tugged the weapon out from under the bed and removed it from it's sheath.

The sharp metal glinted in the pale light of the moon, coming from the window as I walked out of my bedroom.

My bare feet padded silently down the stairs, my knuckles white from gripping my sword so hard.

The figure of a man came into view as I entered the living room, he had his back turned to me and was picking up my books from off the coffee table.

I quietly approached the intruder and pressed the tip of my blade to the nape of his neck. "Turn around slowly, I am not afraid to kill you." I growled as menacingly as I could manage.

The man turned around as I said. "You have horrible decorating taste!"

I blinked my eyes in confusion. "What?" I asked.

He strode confidently away from my blade and flipped on the light.

He was a dark haired man with soft brown eyes. "I said you have horrible decorating tastes!" He gestured at my cheap, floral print couch and flea market coffee table. "Honestly. How could you do this to my house?" He murmured.

"Actually it's my house. Who the fuck are you, Queer Eye for the Teen?" I hissed, trying to make a sarcastic joke.

"I'm Chad. And this is my house, little girl. Not yours." His eyes hardened, and for a moment I was frightened of him.

I shook off the fear and pointed my sword at him again. "Get the fuck out or I'll call the police." I threatened him.

He made no move to leave so I turned to grab the house phone off the coffee table, when I turned back, he was gone.

I walked into the kitchen and put the phone back on the charging dock and then searched the house for my intruder.

All the doors were locked, and there seemed to be no sign of a break in.

I knew I hadn't dreamt it...

I moved back into the kitchen, wide awake now, and sat my sword on the island as I began digging through the fridge for a late night snack to calm my mind.

As I pulled out a stick of string cheese, I heard the sound of creaking footsteps coming towards me.

I dropped the cheese and grabbed my sword and spun around, pressing it against Tate's neck.

Tate's eyes widened as he held his hands up in surrender. "What are you doing?" He asked calmly, a smug smile crossing his features as I removed my blade from his neck.

"Sorry... There was some weird guy in the house a bit ago... Chad I think.. I'm still on edge." I admitted.

He took the sword out of my hands. "Fucking queer." He mumbled, shaking his head before looking at me. "You're alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah... Hey. No, wait. How did you get in here?"

His lips curled up into that smirk he wore so well. "You left a door open." His explanation was vague, and clearly untruthful.

I reached to grab my sword back, but he moved to keep it out of my reach. "You said you wouldn't lie to me, Tate." I crossed my arms over my chest.

His smirk faded away at my words, his expression becoming a frown. "I'm not lying... I won't lie to you, Fox."

"Then tell me how you got in. And why?" I made another grab for my weapon, and this time he let me take it out of his grasp.

Tate was quiet for a moment, as if he was debating something internally. "You wouldn't believe the truth. Because if you would, you'd already have figured it out on your own."

"Fine. Be cryptic and creepy and don't tell me. I don't care." I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him.

He allowed me to push and shove him towards the front door, which I opened and pointed a finger out at the darkness beyond my door. "Get out, Tate. Leave."

He lightly shook his head. "You know the truth, you just have to accept it. Stop rationalising things you can't rationalise!" He stepped out the door and I slammed it in his face.

I locked the door and strode back up to my room, where I put the sword back under my bed and laid down.

"Internet search Tate." Came a whisper in the dark.

I quickly reached under by bed and grabbed my sword again, pulling it out. "Who's in my bedroom? Show yourself!"

A girl who looked to be one or two years younger than me appeared by my bedside. "Internet search him." She urged again.

I frowned. "Who the hell are you? How did you get in here!?"

She sighed. "I'm Violet Harmon. I lived here once. Just search him, you'll understand. Or search for me."

Harmon. That name struck a chord of familiarity.

And then I remembered.

Harmon was the name of the family who lived here before me, three years ago. According to police reports, Violet had run away with her newborn brother.

"You kidnapped your own brother after your father committed suicide!" I gasped.

"No. I'm dead. So is Tate and Chad, who you met a little bit ago! Get with the programme before the house kills you too!" With those words, she vanished.

I stared into the empty space that she had only just been in seconds ago. Maybe I was in shock, but I was deadly calm as I walked over to my desk and booted up my laptop.

I pulled up the Google web page and typed in Tate's name.

In minutes, it was revealed to me that Tate had shot up Westfield High in 1994, killing 15 students.

A S.W.A.T team had then been provoked into shooting Tate dead within the very house I was in now.

I slowly turned the laptop off and turned around, meeting Violet's gaze once again.

"You can't trust him, Fox. He's done more than that, too. He also murdered Chad and Patrick, the homosexual couple that lived here before my family, set Larry Harvey on fire, and raped and impregnated my mother." Violet put her hand on my shoulder as she spoke.

I slowly sat down on the edge of my bed, taking in everything she was telling me.

"You're not safe in this house, Fox." The chestnut haired woman I remember dreaming about a few nights ago, which obviously wasn't a dream, appeared.

She was holding a baby, and had a man with dark hair and a kind smile at her side. "These are my parents, and my little brother." Violet explained.

"Hello, Fox. I'm Ben Harmon, this is my wife Vivian and our son, Jeffrey." He smiled at me.

"Umm. Hello." I wasn't sure what to say to them, seeing as there were dead people talking to me. "Is that Tate's kid?" I pointed to the baby in Vivian's arms.

"I had twins, one was Tate's, Constance has him, and Jeffrey belongs to Ben. I died in child labour, Nicholas was a still born." Viv explained.

I nodded a few times, slowly still trying to grasp everything. And silently praying I hadn't gone insane.

"Look, Fox, you need to get out of this house. Everyone who dies here, is trapped in this place. And not all of us are nice. Some wish only to inflict their own suffering and pain, onto the living. Do you understand?" Ben Harmon asked me.

I rubbed my face with both hands, nodding to him as I did so. "I understand." I said tiredly. "But I won't be run out of my home, the only place I've got, by dead people." I balled my fists. "I'll exorcise the lot of you, if I need to. But I won't be driven away."

The Harmon family seemed to share a look of worry. "We thought we could overcome the house too, and look at us." Vivian said.

Violet nodded in agreement to her mother. "Nothing will work. I even tried the Croatoan, Roanoke spell. Nothing works. This house is evil."

"You haven't tried everything. I'm not giving up, even if it does kill me. This is my home! And you deserve freedom from this." I was adamant. I had nothing and nowhere else after all.

Plus, even if I left, I didn't have the money to go anywhere else, and even if I did, some other family would just buy the place and be in danger too.

So it was decided. I would make friends with the kind spirits of the house, as for the others, they'd be the first I got rid of.


	4. Salt and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was possible I'd seen too much Supernatural."

Two am found me in the backyard, digging up Tate's father's body. It was hard work, since Constance had apparently dug a pretty deep hole.

But Maria had pointed out the locations of her's and his bodies, so I knew where to dig to find Hugo Langdon. 

I dug in the dark, alone, the only light to guide me was the porch light.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tate's voice sounded from the back door, causing me to jump in fright.

I placed a hand over my heart and shot him an untrusting glare as I thrust the shovel's spade into the ground again. "Digging up your father." Came my simple, yet vague reply as he sat down on the ground, leaning his back against the house.

He eyed me with a frown, and I noticed he kept fidgeting with the ring on his index finger. "What do you hope to achieve? We're all bound to this house, this place of hell."

So he knew that I knew. Good, that saves me from explaining why I don't want him around. "Go away." I instructed him. 

He let out a heavy sigh and vanished from my sight, only to return moments later with another shovel. "I know what Violet told you, okay? I'm seeking redemption." He thrust his shovel into the earth, joining me on digging Hugo up.

I snorted. "Redemption?" I stopped digging and stared at him. "How can I trust you? From what I've heard, you're psychotic! Practically border-lining on sociopathic." 

His knuckles turned white with the force of how hard he was gripping his shovel. "I know what I've done!" His voice was rising. "But I want to be forgiven! I want you to give me a chance, Fox!" 

I shook my head. "Do what you want. But I'm not easily fooled or manipulated, so if you try anything, and I mean anything, I'll hurt you. I'll find a way." I promised him, giving him his chance to prove himself.

His lips quirked into a grin. "I wouldn't expect any less from you."

We dug in silence for the next ten minutes before bones, corroded with time came into view.   
The skeleton of Tate's father lay uncovered at our feet.

I climbed out of the hole we had dug and wiped sweat off my brow, smearing dirt across my face in the process. Tate appeared at my side. "Now what's your plan? Call 911 and lie about why you were digging up a body at two am?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm going to try to force his spirit into the after life." I walked over, back towards the house where I had laid kosher salt, matches, and lighter fluid.

Tate gave me a disbelieving look. "What are you doing with those?"

I grinned as I returned to the hole and poured the whole container of salt onto the bones below. "Salt and burn." Okay, it was possible I had seen too much Supernatural, but I might as well try everything.

I poured a little lighter fluid into the hole at my feet and then lit a match. Hugo appeared in the doorway of the house, watching as I flicked the match into the hole and set his bones aflame.

I watched Hugo in hopes he'd vanish or die again or something but the spirit only shrugged his shoulders, meaning I had failed.

Tate grinned at me as his father vanished. "Guess salt and burn didn't work. You'll have to try again."

I stared into the flames and sighed. "I guess so..."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Constance came rushing forward, a watering hose in her hands as she rushed to water out the flames.  
The flames went out fairly quickly and Constance looked into the hole in horror at what I had uncovered. "You better watch yourself, little girl." She pointed a perfectly manicured nail at me, the hose still spurting water.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You can't scare me. I don't know what you want, but I'm going to right the wrongs of this house. No matter what." I growled at her.

"You better rethink, missy! I'm no stranger to murder." She threatened.

I decided, in that very moment, what I had to do. The souls in the house lingered because they needed something. Solace, forgiveness, many things. They just didn't realise it. And that's why the house was able to keep them all.

Some of them, like Moira and Hugo, needed proper endings. They needed their murders solved, and goodbyes to be said.

I turned to Tate, ignoring Constance. "Where is Moira buried? And where will I find Violet's body? I know what I have to do now." 

Tate pointed his finger. "Moira is only a few feet lower. Keep digging. Her bones were somehow buried deeper than his."

I nodded and jumped into the muddy hole, resuming my digging. 

"Stop it!" Constance screeched at me. "Stop it, you little slut! You won't ruin things for me!"

I uncovered Moira in moments. I looked over at Constance as I climbed out of the hole, Tate helped pull me up. "Run." I told my neighbour. "Run as far and as fast you want. Because that's all you can do. If you kill me, I'll kill you." As I made the promise of mutual demise, I could feel the darkness of the house seeping through me. 

It was a dark and evil power, sliding through my veins, summoned by the threats and promises of an equally evil act. A primal part of me loved the feeling of power, but the rest of me was disgusted at it. I knew if I let it, it would warp me, ensuring my death, ensuring the loss of my soul.

I closed my eyes and willed it away.

"If you touch Fox, I'll destroy everything for you!" Tate threatened. He seemed to almost grow in stature, towering menacingly over his mother. 

I could see now, why Violet had warned me away. He was worse than the other spirits. He accepted and understood the evil in the house in ways the others couldn't fathom. He used it, as if it were a tool. And I wondered briefly as I looked into Constance's fearful eyes, if he even realised what he was doing.

The older woman backed off, retreating quickly from my view, back into her own home. But I knew it wasn't a victory for me. She'd return, I could tell.  
I knew she'd do anything to keep herself safe. 

Dropping the shovel, I went to turn off the water for the hose and then I headed inside to wash up.

I decided quickly that my plan would be to call the police in the morning. I'd tell them I had been digging a hole in order to create a fire pit, so I could roast marshmallows and hotdogs at my convenience.

I trudged up the stairs and into my bedroom, where I was met by Vivian. "What are you planning, Fox?"  
She wore a worried expression on her face.

"I'm going to fix everything. Every single spirit in this house needs solace and peace. I'll find a way to bring it." I replied.

Ben stepped out of the darkness, coming to stand at Vivian's side. "Many of the residents won't leave without a fight. If you were in danger before, you're in over your head now." Ben spoke.

I shrugged. "The hardest things to achieve, are the ones worth doing." Plus, Tate wasn't the only one who sought redemption.   
Before California... Well, I had done things too. Things I needed forgiveness for. And this was my way of earning that forgiveness.

"Cool, we'll help if we can." Came Violet's voice. I turned to see her leaning against the door frame of my room, a smile on her lips.

"I feel I'll need all the help I can get." I replied in thanks. "But for tonight, I need a shower."

The Harmon family disappeared, leaving me to my own privacy as I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I peeled off my muddy clothes and turned on the shower.  
Once the water was hot, I stepped in, allowing the warm water to wash mud down the drain.

I closed my eyes, but the enjoyment was short lived as I felt myself being knocked into the wall.   
My eyes shot open as I stood up, staring at a brown haired woman.

"If you think I'm just going to go willingly, you're wrong!" She grabbed me by the neck, forcing my face to smash into the wall hard.

I bit through my tongue and tasted blood. She made to force my head into the wall again, but I jammed my elbow into her face and forced her away.

I spit blood out of my mouth as she charged at me. I weaved away from her, aiming a kick to her face at the same time.

I had done a lot of fighting when I was younger, I wasn't a stranger to this.

But the fight was cut short when Tate appeared, grabbing the woman with a shout of "Go away, Hayden!" And she vanished.

He turned the shower off and handed me a towel, which I wrapped around my body. "I guess that's the kind of thing I have to look forward to." I mumbled. "Thanks." I told Tate.

He nodded. "I won't let anything happen to you." He replied.

I winced slightly, becoming aware that I had popped my shoulder out of place during the fight. "Shit." I grumbled. 

I held my right arm tight at my side, Tate gave me odd looks as I grabbed my right arm in my left hand and snapped the bone back into place with a small scream.

His eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

"I had to reset it..." I mumbled in pain.

He chuckled. "Too tough for help, huh?" He gazed at me with a soft look.

I just shrugged. "I'll probably have to deal with worse by the residents of the house later." I sighed heavily. "I'm going to sleep."

I walked into my bedroom and put on underwear and pyjamas before falling into bed. 

Tate started to walk out of the room, but I threw a pillow at his head. He turned and gave me a questioning glance. 

"Come protect me so I don't get killed in my sleep?" I asked, scooting over to make room for him. "And bring the pillow back!"

He grinned and kicked off his shoes and socks, sliding into bed with me. His arms wrapped around my frame as I rested my head on his chest. "I'll keep you safe no matter what, Fox." He whispered in my ear as I fell asleep.


	5. Fox's Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If she hadn't ever met me, she'd still be alive."

The next morning, I sat on the couch, pretending to be distraught at the fact that I had 'accidentally' uncovered two bodies while digging a fire pit.

The police officer who took my statement, patted my head, trying to comfort me as I 'broke into sobs'.

Thank goodness for acting lessons and the ability to cry on demand.

It was hours later before the police had left, taking Moira and Hugo's bodies with them, leaving me alone in the house.

Or well, as alone as one can be in a house of spirits.

"That was good acting. I almost believed it." Came Tate's voice as he appeared, leaning against the doorframe of the living room.

My cheeks warmed at the sight of him, especially when I remembered how I had cuddled against him during the night.

I gave him a playful bow. "I appreciate that you appreciate my skill." I said in a jovial tone.

He grinned darkly, in that way only he could. "Well, lets just hope your plan works."

I sighed and nodded, sitting myself down on the couch. The police of course would still have to identify the bodies, reopen the case and change it from 'missing persons' to 'murder', and then come up with the correct evidence needed to pin it on Constance.

Which of course made Constance just one more thing that wanted me dead.

I balled my fists and rubbed my eyes, as if to rub all my problems away.  
Which obviously does not work.

"I did some Internet searching this morning and found several suggestions on how to dispel evil from a house and exorcise spirits.

But I dunno... I mean, the salt and burn thing didn't work, and Violet told me the Croatoan spell didn't work either, so I'm a little iffy." I crossed my legs as I spoke, and watched Tate take several long strides as he came towards me and sat down on the couch as well.

We sat at opposite ends, facing each other. "Don't rule them out until we try, you never know if they'll work or not." He grinned.

I ran my hand through my hair. What had my life become? Spirits and spells? And was it possible I was falling for a dead boy?

I heaved a sigh and decided I needed food. Preferably of the take-away variety. I stood up and wordlessly walked into the kitchen, Tate on my heels as he followed.

"What are you doing?" He inquired as I dug through a stack of menus from places that delivered.

I held up the pile of menus and smiled, pushing all thoughts not related to food away. "I'm hungry for unhealthy food. Help me decide what I want?"

With a short laugh, we sat together at the kitchen island, looking over the many different menus and what they had to offer.

"You know what, I feel like I should order one thing from each place, and just pig out." I declared.

He lifted up a menu and waived it in my face. I snatched it away and looked it over, noticing it was for the "Fire Dragon", a Chinese restaurant.

"This was my favourite place to eat, when I was alive. You should order from here." He offered a smile and I smiled back.

I handed him my phone. "Order for me? You obviously know what used to be good there."

He took the phone and our fingers brushed each other. He quickly dialed the number and I listened as he ordered some sort of seafood dish before giving the Rosenheim address and hanging up.

He handed me back the phone and brushed his fingertips over my cheek. I winced, suddenly reminded of the bruises Hayden had given me. "You're still hurt. I could see the way the police were giving you questioning glances over it."

I batted his hand away, not wanting him to keep touching the purple patch of skin. "I'll mend."

He nodded once and tilted his head. "Where did you learn to fight?" He questioned as the memories from last night refreshed themselves in our minds.

I tapped a finger against the marble countertop of the kitchen island. My mind flickered over the truth, but I was hesitant to say anything, instead opting for a distraction by change of topic. "I haven't seen Moira today, do you think she's gone?"

He shook his head. "She's still here, you just haven't seen her." He pursed his lips and pointed a finger at me. "You changed the subject. Why don't you want to answer my question?"

I looked away, pretending to be fascinated with anything but him. Finally I let out a sigh, giving in. If I told anyone my sins, it may as well have been a dead guy who had killed people, right?

"Before I moved here, I lived in New York. Mom worked a lot, so I was usually left to do whatever I wanted. Which when I was sixteen, meant selling drugs. And sometimes doing them.

It meant I got into a lot of fights with users who thought they could kick my ass and take the goods without paying, but I adapted quickly and learned to fight so that wouldn't happen. After all, my supplier would have killed me if I didn't make a profit, you know?

So another dealer taught me to fight." I shrugged my shoulders and looked into his eyes, waiting for his reply.

"When did you get out of the drug business?" He asked softly, leaning towards me as he spoke.

I clenched my fists, balling them up as I remembered why. "There was this girl, Sunny, I loved her. I'd share my stash with her, the good stuff, ya know? Not the shit I sold on the streets, but the really good stuff. It was pure.

She got too addicted and dependent on it. I went to her apartment one day and found her dead. She'd been shot by another user, who wanted to steal the stuff I gave her.

The doctor said she probably didn't feel anything cause she was so high. Even said she probably would have died that day anyway, of overdose. What a load of bullshit, huh? They probably tell those fucking lies to everyone..." I shook my head.  
"It was my fault. I was the one who got her started in it! I let her get addicted and I gave it to her freely.

If she hadn't ever met me, she'd still be alive." I bit my lip to keep from crying as I remembered the brunette haired, brown eyed girl I had loved. I remembered finding her, dead and alone.

Tate put his hand over mine. "It's not your fault. You didn't know she'd get so addicted or that someone would shoot her."

I opened my lips to protest, but was cut off by the doorbell. Tate grabbed my wallet and left me alone in the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with my take-away and wallet.

He set the bag of Chinese food in front of me and handed me a set of chopsticks. "Eat up! It's good."

I took the utensils and wrapped my arms around his neck in a hug. "Thank you."

He wrapped his arms around me. "I didn't do anything." He murmured.

I pulled away and wiped my eyes. "I know..." I turned to the food and pasted on a smile. "Looks good."

He smiled too. "Too bad I can't eat."


	6. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fox has a nightmare, or is it a vision?

I had expected it to be awkward between Tate and I, as I had never spoken aloud my sins from the past, to anyone. Yet I discovered he accepted me easily. I suppose he felt he didn't have a right to judge.

Unfortunately, however, with the 'discovery' of Moira and Hugo's bodies, by the end of the week, there were police 'round all the time, searching the house and grounds for anything incriminating even though years had gone by. They had ended up finding several other bodies and remains, Violet's included.

Such discoveries on their part should have been celebratory worthy, my plan was going accordingly, except it wasn't. I barely had time to see or speak with Tate, or any other spirit in the house, because police were always around, poking and prodding into every nook and crevice of the house at all hours, pissing off a great deal of spirits.

It was only because I had begged and pleaded, that I had been allowed to stay within the house. But they had cordoned off more than half of it, and there was an officer inside the mansion at all hours. It had been two weeks since I'd even seen Tate.

I laid in my bed, staring miserably up at the ceiling and wondering how I could so desperately miss a dead boy that I hadn't known very long. A dead boy that, may I add, had murdered several people among many other horrendous acts. Tonight, the only company I seemed to have were Officers Smithy and Summers, two female officers who were camped out in my living room at the moment. 

They had said it was to keep me safe from Constance, who had fled without a word in the middle of the night, and to be able to be here in case she returned, but I suspected it was to also make sure I didn't mess around and bother anything in their investigation too.

I rolled over onto my side and stared at the wall where I'd tacked up a poster for one of my favourite movies, although it was too dark to make out any details.

I felt an arm sling around my waist as the area behind me sagged under the weight of someone. My breathing hitched slightly, for fear it was one of the not so friendly residents come to kill me in my sleep.

"Miss me?" Tate whispered in my ear, causing all the fear I had to flee as a shiver of excitement ran down my spine.

I stayed still, except for the grin that slid onto my face. "Not hardly." Came the whispered, halfhearted response that we both knew to be a lie.  
He settled in beside me on the bed and I rolled over, placing my head on his chest and he held me close. "You're the first welcomed company I've had in two weeks. I think the police are going to kick me out of the house soon."

I felt his fingers tracing patterns on my back, over the fabric of my shirt. "We won't be able to see each other then. You know I can't leave."

I looked up into his eyes, reading the sadness there as he spoke. "Maybe this whole 'set free all the dead people' plan wasn't so smart." I shuffled out of his arms and sat up, and he followed suit. "I can't seem to find my redemption. I think this is karma's way of saying I don't deserve it."

Tate took my hands in his larger ones. "If anyone in this house deserves forgiveness, you're the one to get it. If it were easy, would it feel worth it?"

I sighed and shook my head, wondering when he'd gotten so wise. "Guess not. But what if they kick me out, or tear down the house? I won't be able to see you."

"We've both known this wouldn't last, unless you didn't plan to free me either." 

He was right, there was no scenario, short of me dying in the house, that led to us being together. Tate was dead and I was alive. And that was that. There was no bringing him back, and it would be selfish to force him to stay if he could move on. 

"How depressing. I fall in love with a dead guy I can never have." I smiled a bit, letting him know I was joking to lighten the mood.

"And so the lion fell in love with the.... Well other lion I guess...."

I quirked a brow at his words. "A female lion is a lioness, and I have lost respect for you if you've been willing away your not-so-afterlife reading Twilight!"

He laughed, trying to be quiet so the officers downstairs didn't get suspicious. "A resident before you watched the movie all the time, I can't be blamed if I picked things up!"

"If you're going to quote movies, quote one a bit more tasteful then one about sparkling vampires." I rolled my eyes.

He smiled, and I knew we were both glad to be on a lighter subject. "And what should I quote if I wanted to impress you?"

"In the terms of movies?" He nodded. "Crime and Punishment in Suburbia, The Phantom of the Opera, or Dandelion." I suggest, to which he looks confused.

"I've only heard of one of those. And I'm not the kind of guy to break out into opera at random moments." He shook his head.

"I guess we'll have to have a movie date sometime." I offer and he grins at the prospect.

"If we're still together on Halloween, we'll go to a theatre. Spirits can roam free on that night."

I nodded and tucked that little nugget of info away for later. "Sounds like a plan."

I flopped back down into a laying position and pulled him down with me before curling up at his side. "Tired?" He asked with a smirk on his face.

I pressed my face into his shirt, breathing in his scent. He smelled like dust after rain and match smoke, which was surprising since I never thought dead people had smells. "'Course I'm tired. It's almost four am." I looked up at him again. "Will you stay?"

"Until the sun rises." He promised, and I understood that he didn't want to be bothered by questions from the police downstairs if he was caught. Even still, I felt a twinge of sadness that he wouldn't be here when I awoke.

He wrapped his arms around me and I closed my heavy eyelids, allowing sleep to take me away.

I was underwater. My limbs felt heavy and the water was murky as I stared upwards, towards a small patch of light fighting to break the surface of the dark water.

The muffled sound of an old record player, scratching and skipping, slowly drifted on the push and pull of the current to my ears.  
Although I couldn't make out any words, the music sounded sad.

I turned my body towards the sound and suddenly I was standing in the Rosenheim Mansion, as if I had never been in the water to begin with.

The house was silent and still. And I felt it in my bones, the spirits were gone.

"Tate?" I called out and his name echoed through empty halls, going unanswered.

I turned quickly at the sudden sound of approaching footsteps, and was somehow not shocked to come eye-to-eye with Sunny.

"What are you doing here?" She asked calmly, her eyes the colour of melted chocolate, looked straight into mine. "You shouldn't be here, Fox, not yet."

I blinked several times, taking her in before answering. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through her hair, golden brown, it fell in ringlets down her back. "I live here."

She smiled softly, her pink lips curling up in that amused way I remembered so well. "Will you be careful? It's angry with you, you know. Because you have a chance to purge it."

"What's angry? I don't understand."

"The house." She replied. And as if affirming her words, a rush of darkness overtook the room, and I was filled with a primal fear. "It's here. I'm sorry, Fox. Try to stay alive." She pressed a soft kiss against my lips before fading away.

I wanted to call out to her, but was stopped. The darkness and evil in the house began to take shape. A dark clad form stepped forward, and my eyes widened. "No."

I shot up in bed, shaking the nightmare off as much as I could. Tate, true to his word, was gone now that the sun was up. But I was more preoccupied with the chill in my bones, the racing of my heart from the nightmare still.

But that's all it was right? A nightmare?


	7. Rosenheim's First Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I close my eyes against the gore downstairs."

My heart finally calmed after awakening from my nightmare, only to jump back into my throat at the sound of bloodcurdling screams coming from downstairs.

I jumped out of bed, reaching for my sword, only to discover it was gone. My breathing quickened with fear as I rushed to my door to head downstairs towards the sound, but a pair of arms wrapping around my waist halted me, keeping me from going.

"No, Fox!" Tate warned in my ear, holding me tighter against his chest.

I struggled against him only for a moment before staying still, wondering why he was keeping me from going anywhere. "What's happening?" I asked him quietly.

"The angry residents of the house killed the policewomen." He responded, and my blood went cold.

I pulled out of Tate's grasp and ran down the stairs, ignoring his warnings that I must stay away.  
The rushing of blood and pounding of my heart become deafening as I come to a halt in the foyer.

Blood splatters covers the walls and floor, along with large chunks of unidentifiable flesh and guts. The room smells of rust and some horrible smell akin to rot. My stomach lurches in disgust and pure horror, causing me to vomit.

Once through, I stand and wipe my mouth, casting another look at the disturbing scene inside my own home. Tate appears at my side, and I don't realise I'm crying until he's wiping tears from my face.

"The house is fighting back, Fox. You were warned about this..." He murmured as he drew me into his arms.

Moira came into the room and tsk'd at the sight. "Take her out of here, I'll clean this up."

I feel Tate's arms around me as he carries me back upstairs. Under a normal circumstance, I may have complained, saying that I knew how to walk, but as of the moment, I'm in too much shock to protest.

He sets me down on the bed and Mrs. Harmon is there, tucking me in like a worried mother, which she was, she just wasn't mine.   
"We warned you, Fox. We told you the house wouldn't give up." She says, smoothing my hair down as Violet appears.

Violet sits on the edge of my bed. "Are you gonna be okay?" Her voice is quiet, sincere.

I nod my head. "Yeah." I croak out.

Tate balls his fists. "I won't let them touch you, Fox." He growls out, and I'm suddenly reminded of what I saw in my dream, the house's personification of evil.

I whimpered lightly and buried my face in the pillows, willing the nightmare to fade from my mind along with the visions of what I had just seen. I was terrified that what I had dreamt was going to be true.

'But it couldn't be, Tate wouldn't...' I shook the thought away as Caper, my kitten, hopped up onto the back of my head, purring because she sensed my distress.

"We'll leave you alone for a while." I heard Mrs. Harmon say, and I assumed everyone left, until Caper was picked up and there was a shifting on the bed next to me.

"Are you regretting the decision to stay?" Tate whispered. I rolled over and looked at him. He was laying on his back, Caper curled up on his stomach as he pet her.

"No. I'm just regretting going down and looking. Damn my curiosity." I replied, halfheartedly, trying to make a joke, but my voice wasn't very jovial.

I suck in a breath and close my eyes and the gore from downstairs replays behind my eyelids like a movie. Maybe this means I'm getting close. Close to the secret of freeing the house from evil.

I feel Tate taking my hand in his and rubbing his thumb over my skin. It's soothing in a way, the cold of him against the warm of me.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, unable to draw my mind from both my nightmare and the gore I saw. As I replayed the dark and ominous dream in my mind's eye, I notice something I hadn't noticed when I was dreaming it.

Perhaps it's my imagination, adding on details that never were, but I can suddenly picture perfectly an old, leather bound book, lying on a lamp table downstairs.

I sit up and cast my gaze to Tate, ready to ask him about the book, but the moment my mouth is open, the words catch in my throat. Something tells me to not say anything, to keep my dream a secret. So I settle back down and Tate just stares at me in confusion.

"What are you thinking, Fox?" He whispers as he looks into my eyes. I know he realised I had been about to tell him something.

I shake my head and push away the guilt of secrets from my mind. "I just can't stop imagining what I saw." I tell him, and it's not completely untrue.

He heaves a sigh and nods sympathetically. "I'm sorry, I tried to stop you." His lips quirk into a soft smile and he lets go of my hand and brushes hair out of my eyes. "But you're a stubborn girl."

I try to return his smile, but it feels wrong to even attempt happiness when there has been a murder. The smile fades from my lips before it even forms and I curl up and press my face into his side.

"Sleep, Fox." He tells me, and I comply, if only to be free from reality for a little bit.

As sleep takes over my mind and I slip into my dreams, I can see the book again. I see it so clearly that I can read the words on the cover. At first the title is unreadable, a language time forgot, but as I stare at it, the rune like letters become the alphabet I know, and the title in English swirls into existence; 'Death's Grimoire.'

And I knew; I had a book to find.


	8. Death's Grimoire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you?"

It wasn't long before I had officers in my home, asking when I had seen the two dead officers last. The official report is that they were both missing, no one knew they were dead.

My heart hammered in my chest as I lied, stating they had been gone that morning when I woke up. Looks were exchanged between officers but ultimately they left.

I'm sure they had done background checks on me. And if they had, they would know I had been charged once with possession and trafficking of drugs, but somehow a really good lawyer that my mother had paid, got me off from any punishment.

Well, the lawyer and the fact that the judge's son was one of my clients at the time.

I ran my fingers through my hair. It had been two weeks since my nightmare and the murder of the two policewomen. Two weeks of searching for a book called 'Death's Grimoire', which I hadn't found in the house or the local library.

Although I had found reference to it on an occult website and had convinced one of the members of the forum I had been on, to let me meet him for coffee to talk about the book.

Tate stared at me questioningly as I dressed, he was still in the dark about my search for the book.

"Where are you going?" He asked as I pulled on a pair of blank, skinny jeans and then a light grey, baggy t-shirt.

I shrugged my shoulders and pulled on combat boots. "Meeting up with a friend I made at work. I can't spend all my time with the dead." I teased as I lied to him.

He crossed his arms and watched as I applied eyeliner and mascara to my eyes and then lipgloss to my lips. "Alright..." Came his hesitant reply, and I could tell he'd rather I stay with him.

"I'll be back soon." I promised before grabbing my car keys and leaving the house.

~•~

I arrived a little early and ordered a hot chocolate before sitting down and waiting for 'Derek' the man from the forums I was supposed to meet. I assumed Derek would end up being some forty-something who still lived in his mother's basement.

We had said he'd recognise me by me sitting in the table in the corner, next to a window overlooking the street. So I sat there and waited, hoping Derek wasn't also some pervert.

"Fox?" I looked up at the mention of my name as a boy my age slid into the seat across from me at the small table. His hair was dark brown and messy, and his eyes were bright blue. He wore ripped blue jeans and a t-shirt with the name of some band I'd never heard written across the chest, and old converse sneakers.

I raised my eyebrows at the extremely attractive guy. "Derek?" I replied.

He nodded and took a drink from his cup. "You're not what I expected." He told me as his eyes looked me over approvingly.

My cheeks flushed and I nodded. "You're not what I expected either." I admitted.

He flashed me a brilliant smile and scratched his cheek with his index finger. His wrists were clad in bohemian type jewellery and the look seemed to suit him. "So how did you hear about Deaths Grimoire? Not many people have even heard of it."

I ran my thumb over the top of my drink. "I think a friend made a passing reference to it, I can't really remember." I was lying a lot lately. "And now I'm curious as to what it is."

"According to the myths, it's basically Death's ledger. All the names of the spirits who work for him." Derek answered.

I frowned, wondering what that had to do with my dream. "Are these spirits good?"

He shook his head. "Nah. They do the worst of the worst deeds, all things that need to be done to bring on the apocalypse."

"Apocalypse?!" He nodded at my surprise. "Does the book have any use other than that?"

"Well, there are other myths that claim there are spells in the book that allow the reader to control death." He shrugged and took a lingering drink of whatever he was drinking. "I've also heard all of Death's secrets are in there."

"But, I mean, Death probably keeps a good grip on that thing, huh?" I smiled and tried to seem interested without letting him know I was actually searching for the damn thing.

Derek looked around before pulling a flask out of seemingly nowhere and pouring what smelled like vodka, into his coffee. He gestured to me an offering and I held out my cup. He poured a little into my hot chocolate and I smiled in thanks.

"I've seen weird rumours on the message boards lately that Death lost it. I mean, come on! It's fake to begin with, so why add on with stupid rumours?" He joked and I nodded.

I tapped my finger on my cup. So great, I was looking for a book that I'm sure Death wouldn't be happy with me having. If it existed.

"You believe in it, don't you?" Derek whispered.

I looked at him in shock. "No." I replied far too quickly and he grinned wide.

"Too bad." He shook his head. "Because I was willing to show it to you."

I sat up straighter and looked him dear in the eye. "You're bullshitting me. You just said it was fake."

He shook his head and something flashed in his eyes. Mischief, maybe? "But we both know its real, Fox. Don't we?"

I was suddenly afraid of Derek. Something wasn't right about him. But I swallowed the fear. "Show me."

~•~

We ended up in his shabby apartment. And I stood on edge, my spidey senses were tingling. Or rather, I just felt creeped out about this whole situation.

He ushered me into his bedroom and I followed, hoping I wasn't about to be murdered.

The whole place was decorated in a gothic theme. Black and red were the main colours of his apartment and his room hosted many human skulls. Which I stared at and hoped were clever fakes.

He bent over his desk and picked up a book and held it up for me. I almost gasped, it was the exact book I'd seen in my dream! I reached out to touch it and he pulled it out of my reach and wagged a finger at me.

"You can have it, Fox Shepphard. But not for free. The book always comes with a price when I lend it out." Something in him changed. And the lamp behind me casted our shadows on the wall behind him and it was then I noticed it.

His shadow had wings. "What are you?" My voice quivered even though I tried to stay calm. What had I gotten myself into?!

He smiled. "Really? You haven't figured it out?"

I shook my head. "No... What or who are you?"

~•~

When at last I stumbled through my front door, it was two am and I had the book hidden in my purse. Tate was on me in seconds, worry in his eyes.

"Where were you? You were gone longer than you said you'd be!" He out his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "Fox what happened? What's wrong?"

I merely shook my head before passing out in his arms.


	9. Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What did it cost you?"

I woke up in my bed, Tate sat at the edge with a look of concern on his face. He watched me carefully as I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

"What happened?" I asked, as the last memories I had were of Derek's place.

The thoughts of what happened there, made my skin prickle with goose-flesh. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold.

Tate watched my actions for a few seconds. "I don't know, Fox. You came home and passed out..." His voice trailed off and he furrowed his brows. "Fox, what's in your bag? I can't even go near it."

The book. That's what was in there. "Something." He gave me an imploring look, waiting for a better explanation than that. I took a deep breath and drew my legs up to my chest.

"Something that I hope will help send you all to the afterlife." I was loathe, for some reason, to tell him exactly what. "Where is my bag?"

He pointed towards my bedroom door, his facial expression telling me he knew something was up, but he didn't ask further questions. "Downstairs." Came the short answer.

I nodded and got out of bed. I was still wearing yesterday's clothing, minus the boots and socks. I had been asleep for a while. But maybe that was normal, after all, I did pay a price for this book. What did I even know of such matters, as the ones of what I sold?

I padded down the stairs and towards the front door, where my messenger bag lay in the middle of the room, right about where I passed out.

I registered the sound of Tate walking down the stairs and towards me, as I reached down and picked the bag up.

As soon as I did, many of the house's residents made themselves known. I could only assume that they'd witnessed Tate unable to even touch the bag holding the book, and had also given it tries. Curiosity probably led them to be surrounding me.

Many of the kinder spirits wore worried expressions. They were my friends, to a sense, and probably worried what kind of thing had I gotten my hands on, that could be so powerful. The other, the more malicious ones, looked angry. I figured their greatest worries were that I had found a way to banish them.

If that was true, I could only imagine that the ones I had befriended, had watched over and protected me from harm as I slept.

I looked around the room, taking in curious and hateful expressions. They'd find out anyway, what I had. So I reached into my bag and removed the book.

Expressions did not change, they probably had no clue what it was that I was holding.

"This book," I started, looking around at those who were around, "may be your salvation," I looked towards the Harmons, Tate, and a few others, "or your damnation." My eyes wandered over the spirits who had tried harming me in the past.

I held the book a little higher, for all to see. By this time, every resident had shown themselves. They stood around me, in a large circle. Tate and Violet had taken to my sides, their presences were comforting and safe.

"What can a book do?" Chad asked, a sarcastic humour in his voice.

I pulled the book to my chest and looked him in the eyes. "I'm not sure yet. But I'll figure it out."

One by one, the house's dead residents vanished from view, until the Harmons and Tate were the only ones left.

"What exactly is it, Fox? It feels..." Violet trailed off, searching for the correct word, her eyebrows knotted together for a moment.

"Unnatural." Tate finished her sentence and she nodded at him.

"It's Death's Grimoire. A book made by, and owned by, Death." I knew that even though I could only see Tate and the Harmons, that we probably weren't the only ones still in the room. But I didn't care. There was a safety in this book.

Vivian's eyes widened for a moment at my revelation. "Fox, I'm afraid to ask how you even got your hands on such an item."

Tate reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, but stopped. "I can't even touch you when you're holding it." He said softly, downcast.

"It wasn't easy to come by. Nor was it free." I dropped my gaze and looked to the floor.

"Fox, look at me." Ben, the only father figure I had ever had, -which is ironic since he's dead- spoke up, his voice serious. I looked at him reluctantly. "What did this book cost you?"

All eyes were on me, waiting for the answer I was going to give.

"My humanity."


	10. Opening the Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " needed blood to activate the book."

I wasn't sure what the loss of my humanity meant for me, Derek, or rather, Death, had said I was under a time constraint if I wanted to use the grimoire to save anyone. Guess I'll find out eventually.

I took the book back up to my room, the Harmons had eventually decided to leave me alone, mostly because I either couldn't or wouldn't answer the questions they had.

I plopped the book onto my bed and quickly changed into my pyjamas, it was getting late already, no point in staying in yesterday's clothes. As soon as I was dressed, I hopped onto my bed and grabbed the book.

Tate hasn't followed me up, and I didn't linger my thoughts on that as I stared at the cover. I was nervous, for some reason, to open the book. Maybe because I didn't know what waited me inside. Or maybe it wasn't nerves, as some tiny part of me whispered to put it down, to not even try, but I shook my head and pulled the book open.

The pages were blank, and I felt duped. Had Derek lied to me? Surely that couldn't be it, if the Rosenheim residents couldn't even get near it...   
I stared blankly at the pages, frustration welling up in me. I thought I had the answers!

I slammed the book shut and, in a fit of sudden rage and anger, threw it across the room, where it hit and shattered my lamp.

"Shit!" I hissed as I got up and walked over to the broken lamp. I picked the book up and out it on my desk, next to my laptop, before I began to grab up the pieces of broken glass.

As I squatted down, picking up pieces, Tate's hands enclosed around mine. "Shit, Fox." He breathed as he pried my hands open and pulled the glass away from me, it was only then that I noticed I had been clutching the shards too tight, that they had cut into my hands.

I stood there staring at my bloody hands as Tate finished picking up the pieces and tossing them away. There was something mesmerising about the way my blood rolled and dripped down my arms, leaving red trails in the wake.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as Tate grabbed one of my hands in his and dug his thumb into one of my cuts, causing me pain. "Ow! Fuck, let go!" I cried out and he dropped my hand. I started to pull them against me, but instead grabbed the Grimoire, only to set it down seconds later, due to the pain in my hands.

"What the fuck, Fox?" Were his only words before he yanked me into the bathroom and pressed a towel against my hands to staunch the bleeding. "I don't know what's happening to you, but I don't like it." He muttered.

I allowed him to bandage my hands as I sat on the edge of the tub. "Nothing's happening to me, Tate." I replied after a while. "I'm just frustrated by that book, but I'm okay."

He stared at me and sighed before sitting down next to me on the tub's edge. "You said you sold your humanity. That's a high sounding price to pay, I'm worried about what's going to happen to you." He looked me in the eyes and I shrugged.

"Nothing will happen. I'll save you all before anything has the chance to happen." I replied.

He laid a hand on my shoulder. "I hope you're right, Fox." He said before disappearing.

I stood up and padded back into my bedroom and grabbed the book again before tossing it onto my bed, where it landed in an open position. I hopped into bed and just as I reached out to grab it, the blood I had spilt onto the book seeped onto a page, and words scrawled across the blank page. The words shifted and changed as I watched in awe, until they spelt out words I could read.

"Killing Spells." The random page presented, and in fact, the page was filled with spells to kill people in different ways.

I looked through them for a bit before deciding they weren't what I needed, and flipped the page. However, the other pages were still blank. And I realised, I needed blood to activate the book.


	11. Shedding the Sheepskin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he stepped into my embrace, I looked into the Monster's eyes, and briefly I wondered if the gateway to the pits of hell were that specific shade.

I tried twice to get the book to reveal its secrets to me, by cutting my wrists and letting the blood cover the pages, but it became clear that one persons blood only worked once. I was going to need someone else's to see what else the book held.

I didn't tell any of this to the Harmons or Tate, who would no doubt tell me to let it go. But my mind raced with ways to get what I needed, and the more I thought about it, the less guilty I felt.

I came to the conclusion that no one would willingly give me what I needed, I'd have to take a life. There was a part of me, a part growing quieter as time ticked by, that said murder was wrong, but the other part of me wouldn't let the idea go.

It became a constant on my mind, so much so that it was hard to focus on anything else.

"You've been acting weird." Tate commented, about three days later. His facial expression was one of worry, and he reached out and cupped my cheek. "What's going on in your head?"

I smiled at him, and still I could tell there was a part of him that seemed to sense my soul's growing darkness. "Nothing." The lie rolled off my tongue with impeccable ease.

Tate gave me a look that said he didn't believe me, but he didn't push the subject. After that, he didn't spend as much time with me. I knew he was around, I knew all of them were around.

I could sense them looking at me, waiting for my next move.

And then a day or two later -I started losing track of time- a relatively young policeman came to my door, he had another set of questions for me, pertaining to the cases of the bodies I'd 'found' in the yard, and the missing policewomen.

I let him in and we sat in the living room, him on the couch and I on a chair across from him.

I barely registered the questions he asked, for as soon as I'd let him in, there had been a whisper in my mind.

'Kill him. Use his blood for the book.' It started as a soft whisper, but grew increasingly until it was a shout within my mind; drowning out all else.

I smiled politely at the officer, nodding my head as he spoke, while in my mind I was wrestling to beat down those thoughts.

•••

"What the fuck did you do?!" Tate's outburst of shock drew me back to consciousness.

I blinked a few times, wondering if I'd fallen asleep. Tate stood in front of me, he looked angry. I rubbed my eyes to wipe away the sleep, only to feel the smear of something wet across my face.

I brought my hands in front of my eyes and stood in shock for a second as I stared at them; they were bloodstained.

Slowly my gaze moved around me and my heart stopped for a moment as I took in the gore. There was blood and flesh everywhere; and in the centre of it all was the book. I stared transfixed, the pages slowly filled with letterings.

Tate grabbed my shoulders in a hard embrace and gave me a strong shaking. I tore my gaze from the book and met his eyes. His was a look of rage and worry for me, for what I'd done, but hidden beneath that, I could see an almost perverse pride for my actions. He fought it, but I could see the monster in him taking pride for my kill, but the boy in him, the part that wanted to love me, was panicking.

"Dammit, Fox! What did you do?" He begged the answer, but I couldn't give him one. I knew what I'd done, but I didn't remember.

I'd committed murder in order to bathe the book in blood. Looking down at my clothes, I'd even come to the realisation that I'd practically bathed myself in the red liquid as well.

"I'm sorry." I whispered in reply, half of me wondering why it was just us in the room, where were the Harmons?

Tate shook his head and pushed me away. "No. You're not." He sounded disgusted with me, but I could read him better than he could read himself right now.

Tate was complex; there was bits and pieces of him that wanted to be normal, innocent even. But that was the sheepskin that the wolf wore. The real Tate, the part he'd hidden so long that he sometimes forgot it existed, the real part that came out in bursts of murderous violence, that Tate was a monster.

And the Monster was proud of me. The Monster could fall in love with this twisted thing I was becoming.

But for now, there were other things I had to do. So Tate's disgust went without reply as I picked up the book, the letters were fading already; if wasted too much time talking, too much time being out of it, to have gotten to read anything.

I grit my teeth and let out what could, in that moment, only be described as a growl.

All that blood, gone to waste!

I looked to Tate, who seemed to be backing out of the room.

"Help me." I told him, and he shot me a concerned look. "I need more blood."

Tate shook his head, denying me. "No, Fox. This isn't you! You need to forget the book."

I growled and tossed the book onto the couch. "I can see it in you. You'd get so much satisfaction from it, from the kill. You've killed before, Tate. Do it again, do it for me!" I held my arms out for him, and he fought with himself internally.

And finally I saw it, the Monster won. The wolf tore off the disguise.

Tate the boy and Tate the monster looked absolutely the same. Except for the eyes, you could see all the malice and hatred for the world in those eyes.

As he stepped into my embrace, I looked into the Monster's eyes, and briefly I wondered if the gateway to the pits of hell were that specific shade.


	12. What Have I Done?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I heard it clearly as it whispered to me using Tate's voice. "You will never win against me." It whispered.

I awoke to a splitting headache. It was as if there was a knife in my brain and even the slightest movements made it flare up, and I feared I would vomit. As I pried my eyes open, groaning at the light streaming through the window, the next thing I noticed was the smell. It was like rust and rot; a metallic yet sickly sweet scent that did not help the fact that I was already swallowing down vomit.

I sat up and stared in horror and shock at the scene of my bedroom; there was blood and unidentifiable parts of something coating every surface. And suddenly I realised that I had no recollections of last night.

I stood slowly from my bed, attempting to not step in anything, just as Tate walked in. He bore no sign of even noticing the gore in my room, and if he did notice, he obviously wasn't shocked.

Tate held up a bowl of cereal, he was smiling as if he had no cares in the world. "I made you breakfast." He said proudly, and his lack of attention to the horror around me, made me suddenly question if I was the only one seeing it.

I took several hesitant steps towards him, still careful where I placed my feet, until I could take the bowl from his hands. Sparing a glance to the floor, I swallowed down my sickness.

"Tate, I think I'm seeing things." I began slowly. "My room looks like its covered in blood."

As soon as the words had left my mouth, Tate's sweet smile turned into a much darker one. "I understand, you want to play a bit more before you eat. I do too." He took the bowl from my hands, and to my confusion, he tugged me out of my room, leaving the bowl on my dresser.

As we walked through the house, I became more terrified. Bloodied hand prints stained the wall paper, crimson splatters were everywhere. I couldn't fathom what had happened here, nor could I stomach it any longer.

Just as we reached the basement door, I pried myself away from Tate and bent over as I vomited. It was all too much-- the smell, the gruesomeness of it all.

Tate held my hair back and murmured soft things, like he was consoling me. But he seemed not at all worried really.

"Tate, what happened?" I asked, tears were pricking my eyes and my throat hurt.

Tate's smile slowly faded as he looked me in the eyes. "We were having fun. You enjoyed it." His words came out like excuses, but they sounded false. He sounded as if he was trying to hide the glee in his voice.

I looked him in the eyes and was afraid of what I saw there. I backed away from him and into the wall. "Tate, what happened?" I asked again, praying in my heart that what I was starting to assume, was wrong.

"Don't you remember, Fox?" He asked as that dark, prideful grin slid onto his lips. "We made them scream for mercy they weren't going to ever get." His voice was hushed and reverent, causing goose flesh to rise on my skin.

Flashes of memories flickered through my mind; my hand clutching one of the butchers knives from the kitchen, the feel of warm blood splattering across my face, Tate's bloodied and jovial grin.

I put my hands to my head, digging my fingers into my temples. "No!" I protested against the memories. I looked at Tate, he was still grinning and it sickened me. "Get away from me, Tate!" I ordered him.

Finally that smile faded for real. "No, you can't order me away! You wanted this! You started it and it won't end just because you try to get rid of me!" His happy tone had changed to one of anger.

For the first time, I was really afraid of Tate. "Leave me alone and go away!" I ordered him again. I feared he would hurt me, but instead he did as I demanded. He vanished from my sight.

Whether or not he was lurking near me, I didn't know.

I scrambled quickly through the bloody hallways, a strong desire overcoming me to find the grimoire. I found it coated in blood, laying on the floor.

I picked it up and clutched it to my chest as tears streamed down my face. What had I done? Had I truly sacrificed my humanity, my soul, for this house?! I had been so foolish to think I could win!

As I clutched the book to my chest, I surveyed the grotesque state the house was in. It was as if we'd held a massacre here.

My body was trembling in fear as I finally began to walk down the stairs into the basement, fearing what I would find down there.

At first there was nothing, and then it was as if the darkness was slowly pooling together, taking shape. I watched, paralysed with fear as it formed what looked to be Tate's silhouette.

The black mass of shadow had no defining features, just Tate's shape.

But I heard it clearly as it whispered to me using Tate's voice. "You will never win against me." It whispered.

I knew this darkness was not Tate, it was the house. Just like in my dream, the evil inside the house had chosen Tate as it's favoured tool, as its vessel.

But it was not Tate, no words or commands I could give, would force it away from me.

Part of me was drawn to it, and I knew it was because of my deal for the book, but a greater part of me was terrified.

Suddenly I knew with all my heart, with all the conviction I could muster; one way or the other, I would die in this house.

But just as I knew this to be true, I knew I would not go down without a fight. Even if I died, I was taking this evil and vanquishing it.

Even if I became a monster, I was going to save Tate and the others.


	13. Feeling of Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The darkness inside me was ever growing, with Tate around I'd become a monster so quickly.

I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, trying to get away from the darkness and evil.

The basement door slammed shut and Tate -- the real Tate -- stood in front of it, an emotionless look on his face. He slowly began descending the steps towards me, forcing me backwards into the basement again.

I was trapped between him and the Evil. He seemed unaware of its presence, but I couldn't be sure that he didn't know it was there.

I clutched the grimoire tightly against my chest. "Tate, stop. You're scaring me." My voice was quieter than I wanted it to be, but he ignored my words either way, continuing to close the distance between us.

Before I could react against him, Tate's hands were around my neck and he had a murderous expression on his face.

I knew the Evil was driving his actions. I dropped the grimoire to claw at his wrists and hands, trying to get him to release me.

I couldn't breathe, my lungs were starting to burn with the need for oxygen.

Black dots began to darken the edge of my sight, slowly expanding and blacking out what I could see.

I closed my eyes, thinking this was it.

I was dropped to the ground suddenly and I landed hard on my ass, my hands touching my throat as I gulped in air. 

It took me a moment before I could look around.

There was a bright light in front of me, the Evil had fled in fear of it and as Tate looked upon it, he seemed to calm.

I think I blacked out then.

\----

When I woke up again, I was still on the cold floor of the basement. The grimoire was next to my head.

"You're awake." I looked up into Violet's eyes and pushed myself up to sit.

"What happened?" I asked her.

Violet shrugged her shoulders. "I don't really know. There was this calm and peaceful feeling throughout the house for a moment.

I came down here where it seemed to be coming from and found you passed out on the floor. 

There was a girl I'd never seen in the house before too. She was standing over you."

I pulled the grimoire into my lap. "Huh?"

Violet nodded. "She had brown hair, looked our age."

Sunny.

Violet continued speaking even though I think my heart stopped.

"I think she sacrificed herself for you because she turned into this warm light and shattered."

I clutched the book tightly to my chest and burst into sobs.

I cried for all the fear I'd had, all the wrong I'd done, for everything.

Violet wrapped her arms around my shoulders and let me cry it out.

\---

I walked around the house taking in the death and gore that seemed to cover every inch of the house.

My mind was churning over so many thoughts at once.

Had I summoned Sunny some how?

Had she come on her own?

Where was Tate now?

How long till the Evil came back?

I sat down on the living room couch next to a mutilated corpse and put my head in my hands.

How was I supposed to fix all of this?

Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened the grimoire. The book had been so soaked in blood, the pages were full of writing.

I flipped through them, one by one.

Slowly a rage began to bloom within me.

The pages were full.

But I had never seen this fucking language before in my life!

I stood up and stormed over to the house phone. As I picked it up to dial 'Derek's' number, Caper, my little kitty hopped onto my shoulders.

I pressed the phone to my ear as I listened to it ring and ring until I heard it get picked up.

"Well, well. Little Miss Shepard, whatever can I do for you?" I heard Derek's voice.

"Why can't I read the book?!" I demanded answers from him. I gave up my humanity for this!

I heard a chuckle from the other end of the line. "So you fed it enough blood and still can't read it?"

"You knew this would happen!" I accused. "You meant for me to fail all along."

"On the contrary, Fox, I want you to succeed. Long has that house and all things in it defied me. I can not even enter it to claim the souls that belong to me.

But there are rules to the book. You gave your humanity to become the grimoire's master. But in order to read it, you must sacrifice something else."

I could feel the urge to cry out of frustration growing. "What do I have to give you?" I asked angrily.

\---

Once the deal was sealed, I sat on the couch again with the grimoire. I opened it up, and was happy to find I could read the ancient language within it this time.

"Fox?" I snapped the book shut at the sound of my name.

Tate stood in the doorway, looking like a wounded puppy.

"What do you want?" I snarled out.

He seemed to be taken aback by my tone, as he blinked several times and took one step backwards.

"I'm sorry, Fox!" There were tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. Please forgive me."

I sat the book on the cushion next to me and looked away from him, ignoring his presence the best I could.

I heard him close the distance between us before sinking to his knees in front of me. He laid his head in my lap and cried.

"Please. Fox. I need you. I love you. Don't send me away from you!"

I loved Tate. And I believed him when he said he loved me.

Because Tate loved me in the best way he knew how.

I closed my eyes as he continued to cry.

I was doing this for him. All of this.

I was doing it to save him.

I could forgive him out of love. But there were two parts to Tate.

The one I saw now, that truly and desperately thought he loved me.

And the monster that would use that love to kill me.

"I'm doing this for you." I whispered and he looked up at me at my words.

"You forgive me?" His voice was so full of hope, it broke my heart.

"I'm sorry, Tate. I can't trust you with what's left of my humanity. I'm doing this for you, to save you.

But you can't be at my side anymore. You need to leave me alone."

He backed away, still on the floor in front of me. There was such shock and pain in his eyes. I knew he felt betrayed.

But with Tate around, I was more apt to give into my own darkness, to forgo my mission to save everyone in this house.

The darkness inside me was ever growing, with Tate around I'd become a monster so quickly.

I watched him get to his feet, his body shaking with so many emotions.

He didn't say a word as he vanished from my sight.

But I knew that wouldn't be the end of him.

I opened the grimoire once more, starting my search for the end to the darkness.


	14. The Start of Rosenheim's Last Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going down easily.

I flipped slowly through page after page of ancient text. Spells and stories and names filled every space of the grimoire. I had no clue which of these countless pages held the answers I sought after.

My focus on the book was broken as I heard the sound of shattering glass from somewhere upstairs. I leapt off the couch and to my feet, the book clutched tightly in my hands. Something else shattered and I wondered if I should go check on it, see what was going on.

Shaking my head, I sat back down on the couch, hoping to ignore it. It didn't matter anymore, whatever was being broken was a just material possession. Things could be replaced. I couldn't afford to get distracted.

As I opened the book once more, pain shot through me. It was like a strong, stabbing sensation behind my eyes. I clutched the edges of the book harder as my eyes closed.

As my eyes shut, my thoughts seemed to change of their own accord. I could see blood splattering the walls, hear screams of agony, even see blood coating my own hands. It was like a seductive lullaby, calling me to forgo my mission to save those who were stuck in Rosenheim and trap more in the house.

It was the Evil, I knew it was. The more time I wasted, the more it seeped into me. The more it took control of me. Already it was in my veins, like a disease in my blood.

I opened my eyes again, the pain unceasing.

"I won't stop. Not for anything. I've come to far." I began to turn the pages again when I finally spotted it, a way to fix everything.

My heart sped up. This was it. This was what I was looking for! I read over it with excitement.

"I can do this. I can--" the book was ripped from my hands by an unseen force. The lights shattered just as the book hit the far wall.

I jumped up in fear. The house was suddenly dark and quiet. Far too quiet. But I could feel them near me, all the spirits in the house that didn't want me to succeed.

And I knew it, the Evil presence, was waiting. Waiting for me to be stopped.

"I don't want you to leave me, Fox." Tate's voice was so close, as if he were whispering in my ear. "I won't let you." A shiver ran down my spine at the menace in his words.

Before I could reply to him, I was knocked off my feet and slammed onto the floor. I hit the ground hard.

"Tate!" I called to him desperately as I pushed myself to my feet. "Stop! Don't do this!"

Something sharp was pressed against the skin of my cheek and dragged down in a jagged line. I hissed in pain and swatted blindly in the dark, trying to push whatever or whoever it was away.

"We're not going anywhere, little girl." Came some woman's voice as I was slapped so hard I was forced a few steps backwards.

This was it. I knew it then, this was it.

Right now, tonight, the house had decided to make its final stand.

Tonight it ended. Either in my success or my failure.

And no matter what, I wasn't going down easily.


	15. End of All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter.

I leapt to my feet, heart racing in my chest as I quickly searched the darkness for the book.

I knew this was it; the end. I would either succeed, and rid the house of this primeval force that held the many spirits here. Or I would fail and be trapped here alongside them.

Finally my hands swept over the book and I clutched it to my chest just as something-- a force or a spirit, I don't know what-- knocked into my side so hard I shoved back onto the floor. I curved into myself as a reflex as it felt like I was getting kicked in the side.

"Tate!" I cried out, knowing that no matter what, he'd be close by. He'd be listening, watching. "Tate you know I need to do this! Help me save you!" There was a commotion, and I thought perhaps he'd come to my aide, but instead it was Violet.

"We'll help you, Fox. You're not alone." She promised as she and her family stood around me.

By now my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I slowly stood up off the floor. Blood was dripping out of my mouth and I wiped it away. "Tate's not coming to help, is he?" I asked.

Violet shook her head slowly, an apologetic look on her face. "Tell us how to help." Violet said.

Taking a deep breath, I looked her in the eyes and said, "get me down to the basement. I need to meet this head on."

We made our way slowly towards the basement door. I cringed every few minutes as something new went flying by my head, shattering against the wall, or another spirit lunged us, attempting to take me out. But the Harmon family was ready to put an end to this house. They kept me safe at all costs.

As we reached the stairs, I pulled the door open just as screams came from behind me. The Harmons, one by one, were ripped away from me and thrown into fights of their own against other spirits. Spirits that weren't ready to give up the house.

I was ready to sprint down the stairs but stopped as I heard Tate calling me from behind.

"Fox." His voice was a whisper in my ear. The noise from the rest of the house faded away. "Fox, I can see it in you." He whispered softly. "You'd get so much satisfaction from it, from staying with me. You've killed before, Fox, you belong here. Give up, do it for me." I could feel his hands on my shoulders, steady and gentle.

"No." My voice was strong. "I'm saving you."

The hands on my shoulders suddenly gripped me tightly. "Fucking bitch!" He hissed, shoving me roughly down the basement steps.

I rolled down them, hitting every step hard and painfully before landing at the bottom, my head hitting concrete so hard that I almost blacked out.

In the fall down the steps, I'd lost the book. I didn't get a chance to even worry about that or process the fact that Tate had just shoved me down the stairs, as I was picked up and flung into the wall like a rag doll.

Darkness inched at the corners of my vision and there was a strong metallic taste in my mouth. I pushed up onto my knees and spit out a mouthful of blood. I reached up and touched my head, my fingers coming back wet and warm.

My head was bleeding, my torso hurt so bad I was sure I had broken several ribs, I was spitting up blood to a very concerning degree. But I wasn't beaten yet.

I used the wall to help me stand.

"Fight me on your own, coward." My voice was shaky as I called the Evil out.

I saw it then. Once again using Tate as it's vessel.

"You think you can honestly win against me?" It spoke with Tate's voice, sounding bored. As if I were a mere child's game that it had been forced to play. "There is no outcome where you walk away from this. This is my home. And I will not lose." The voice turned into a growl.

I wiped blood off of my mouth and took a step towards it, towards Tate, just as it came at me at a supernatural speed.

Tate's hands were around my neck once again, cutting off my airway and slamming my head against the wall.

Finally I did black out. From the pain. From the force of my head being shoved against the wall. From exhaustion.

I was unsure of how long passed before I woke up again. The pain in my body let me know I was still alive. The cold, hard floor let me know I was still in the basement.

I rolled onto my side and curled into a ball.

I wasn't going to make it out of this alive. Or probably at all.

I heard footsteps edging towards me and turned to look up.

The basement lights were now on and Tate looked down at me with a look disappointed look on his face. "Oh, shame. You're giving up hope already. I thought you'd be more fun."

He yanked me up by my hair, forcing me to stand. I looked into his eyes, into the Evil. He raised his hand and I saw the kitchen knife in his grasp.

This was it.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch.

\---  
3rd Person

\---  
Tate, being used as a vessel for some great and primeval darkness, clutched the knife in his right hand tightly. He held Fox by her neck with his left hand, pressing her against the wall.

She clenched her eyes closed with fear and he grinned at her. Just as he slid the blade against her neck, her hand came up and in one very quick motion, she traced a symbol on his cheek in her own blood as he sliced her neck open.

Both the knife and Fox hit the ground as it was forced from Tate's body.

She had sacrificed herself in order to use a spell that would force it out of Tate and keep it from using any other soul as it's vessel.

Anger surged through the Evil just as Fox's spirit rose up. "I'm taking you with me out of this life." She growled before lunging at the darkness.

The two fought until she whispered a set of ancient words from a language that was long dead and forgotten.

Her body began to glow, much like Sunny's had when Sunny sacrificed herself to save Fox.

The light washed over the house, destroying the darkness and setting the trapped souls free.

One by one they disappeared from the light until it was just Tate left.

\---  
Fox  
\---

I felt warm.

Nothing hurt anymore.

I had done it.

The house was still bathed in light, but it was slowly receding.

Tate, the real Tate-- the boy from long before the darkness had seeped into his soul and corrupted him-- slowly made his way towards me.

"Fox. You did it. We're free." He had a lovely smile. "Let's go together." He held out his hand to me.

"I'm sorry. Tate, I sacrificed everything to save you." As the light was fading, so was I. "I don't get an ever after. This is my end."

Tate seemed reluctant to believe me. But I saw him nod. "Thank you." He vanished, his soul going to wherever it was that souls were supposed to go to after death.

And the light faded. Taking my very existence with it.

I won.

I saved them.

\---

"But you didn't." My eyes opened and I was once again laying on the cold, concrete floor of the basement. "And now you'll get to live forever, knowing exactly what it would have felt like to succeed."

I looked up into Tate's eyes and then slowly turned my head to look at my body.

\---

I may be stuck in this house.

But I won't let the next occupant fail to do what I couldn't.


End file.
